Chapter Forty
I had a word with Toot-toot once we were outside, and by the time the Munstermobile rolled out of the lot, we had a ring of tiny, nigh-invisible escorts pacing us, making it their business to dislodge any enemy tiny observers our foes might have sent to keep tabs on us. It didn’t make me think that we would avoid the attentions of enemy Little Folk altogether, but every little thing I could conceal from the people working against me could prove to be a critical edge.
Karrin saw the car’s paint job again, rolled her eyes, and declined my offer of a ride. She followed us on her Harley. Molly rode shotgun with me, holding her backpack on her lap. Molly was a big believer in shaping the future by way of carrying anything you might need in a backpack. Tonight it looked particularly stuffed.
As I drove, the burn in my calf continued every time I worked the clutch or pumped the brake, getting slowly worse beneath the layers of gauze Butters had wrapped it in. The rest of my lower leg was tingling and itching, too, but at least the wound wasn’t soaking through the bandages.
What the hell had that dart been? Why plug me with it, unless the Redcap thought it would kill me?
“I, uh,” Molly said as I pulled the Caddy into the marina parking lot. “I got you something.”
“Eh?” I asked.
“I had them rush it out this morning and we got it this afternoon. I mean, you know. As long as I was using Thomas’s card anyway.”
I blinked. “You embezzled funds from the White Court to get me a present?”
“I like to think of it less as embezzling and more as an involuntary goodwill contribution,” she said.
“Careful,” I told her. “You don’t want to get entangled with Lara and her crew. Even owing them money isn’t smart.”
“I didn’t borrow it, boss. I stole it. If they weren’t cautious enough to stop me, that isn’t my problem. They should be more careful who they hand those cards to. Besides, they can afford it.”
“The entitled younger generation, I swear,” I said. “Well-done.” I found a space big enough for the Munstermobile and parked, then set the emergency brake and killed the engine. “What is it?”
Molly got out of the car. “Come see.”
I started to, but she hurried impatiently around to meet me, digging into her backpack. I shut the car door behind me and she presented me with a paper-covered package tied with string.
I opened it by tearing paper and snapping string, and a long leather garment unrolled.
“Dunh nuh nah nah nunh,” Molly sang, singing the opening riff from “Bad to the Bone.”
I found myself smiling and held up a long coat of heavy black leather, like one of those old cowboy dusters, except for the long mantle hanging down over its shoulders. It smelled like new leather and shone without a scuff mark to be seen. “Where the hell did you find an Inverness coat?” I asked her.
“Internet,” she said. “Security Guy helped me shop for it.”
“You don’t know his name?” I asked.
“His name is Guy, and he’s building security,” Molly said. “Security Guy.”
“And he did this for you why?” I asked.
“Because I’m pretty and because he might have gotten a gift certificate out of the deal.”
“Remind me to never give you one of my credit cards,” I said, and I put the coat on.
The weight of the leather settling around me was familiar and comforting, but this coat wasn’t the same as my old coat. The sleeves were a little longer, and fit better. The shoulders were a little narrower, and actually matched up with mine. The mantle hung down a bit more. The pockets were in a slightly different place. Most significantly, it didn’t have the layers of protective enchantments that took about half a working week to lay down.
But . . .
Yeah, I decided. I could get used to it.
I looked up to see my apprentice grinning widely.
I put my hand on her shoulder for a moment, smiled, and said, “Thanks, Molls.”
Her eyes shone.
Mouse piled out of the car and hurried over to sniff the coat, tail wagging.
“What do you think?” I asked him.
“Woof,” he said seriously.
“He thinks it suits you,” Molly said, smiling.
“Goofy motorcycle cowboy meets Scotland Yard?”
Mouse wagged his tail.
I grunted as Karrin pulled in and parked her Harley far down the row from the Munstermobile, in a motorcycle parking space. She eyed me as she came walking up to us, then Molly, and gave her an approving nod. “That’s more like it,” she said.
“Feels good,” I said. I nodded toward the water, where the Water Beetle was chugging slowly back into its berth. Thomas was at the wheel, maneuvering the tub deftly. I waved at him and he replied with a thumbs-up gesture. The boat was ready to go.
I turned to speak to the others, but before I could, I felt my concentration disrupted. An eerie, cool frisson rolled down my spine, all the way down my body to my legs. There was a flicker and a chill from the little wound, and the pain became a little less. At the same moment, I sensed the air grow a fraction of a degree colder, something I would never have noticed on my own.
Sundown.
“That’s it,” I said a second later. “Sun’s down. It’s on.”
“What if you’re too late?” Sarissa asked. “What if they’re starting right now?”
“Then we’re wasting time talking about it,” Molly said. “Let’s get to the boat.” She beckoned Mac and Sarissa. “This way, please.”
I glanced at Mouse and jerked my chin toward Molly. He heaved himself up and went after her, walking just behind our two unknown quantities.
Karrin had opened a storage compartment on her Harley. She shrugged out of her jacket, and then slipped into a tactical harness and clicked it shut around her. She added a number of nylon pouches to it, then took out a gym bag and dropped heavy objects in before shutting the compartment and locking it. She looked up at me and nodded. “All set?”
“I miss my gear,” I said. “P90 in there?”
“His name is George,” Karrin said. “You want my backup gun?”
“Nah, I’ve already got the finest killing technology 1866 had to offer on the boat. Glad I didn’t name it George. How embarrassing would that have been?”
“George isn’t insecure,” she said.
“What about, ah . . . ?”
“The Swords?”
“The Swords.”
“No,” Karrin said.
“Why not?”
She frowned and then shook her head. “This . . . isn’t their fight.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said.
“I’ve wielded one,” she said. “And it makes perfect sense to me. To use them tonight would be to make them vulnerable. No.”
“But—” I began.
“Harry,” Karrin said. “Remember the last time the Swords went to the island? When their actual adversaries were there? Remember how that turned out?”
My best friend, Molly’s dad, had been shot up like a Tennessee speed limit sign. The Swords had a purpose, and as long as they kept to it, they were invulnerable, and the men and women who wielded them were avenging angels. But if they went off mission, bad things tended to happen.
“Trust me,” Karrin said quietly. “I know it doesn’t make sense. Sometimes faith is like that. This isn’t their fight. It’s ours.”
I growled. “Fine. But tell the Almighty that He’s missing His chance to get in on the ground floor of something big.”
Murphy punched my chest, but gently, and smiled when she did it. The two of us turned toward the dock and began to follow Molly and the others. I was just about to step out onto the dock when I heard something. I stopped in my tracks and turned.
It started low and distant, a musical cry from somewhere far away. It hung in the darkening air for a moment like some carrion bird over dying prey, and then slowly faded.
The wind started picking up.
Again the tone sounded, nearer, and the hairs on my arms stood straight up. Thunder rumbled overhead. The rain, a fitful drizzle most of the day, began to fall in chilly earnest.
And again the hunting horn sounded.
My heart started revving up, and I swallowed. Footsteps approached, and then Thomas was standing beside me, staring out the same way I was. Without speaking, he passed me the Winchester rifle and the ammunition belt.
“Is it . . . ?” I asked him.
His voice was rough. “Yeah.”
“Dammit. How soon?”
“Soon. Coming right through the heart of downtown.”
“F*ck,” I said.
Karrin held both hands up. “Wait, wait, the both of you. What the hell is happening?”
“The Wild Hunt is coming,” I said, my throat dry. “Um . . . I sort of pissed off the Erlking a while back. He’s not the kind of person to forget that.”
“The king of earls?” Karrin asked. “Now who isn’t making sense?”
“He’s a powerful lord of Faerie,” Thomas explained. “He’s one of the leaders of the Wild Hunt. When the Hunt comes to the real world, it starts hunting prey and it doesn’t stop. You can join it, you can hide from it, or you can die.”
“Wait,” Karrin said. “Harry—they’re hunting you?”
My heart continued to beat faster, pumping blood to my muscles, keying my body to run, run, run. It was hard to think past that and answer her question. “Uh, yeah. I can . . . I think I can feel them coming.” I looked at Thomas. “Water?”
“They’ll run over it like it was solid ground.”
“How do you know that?” Karrin asked.
“I joined,” Thomas said. “Harry, Justine.”
I clenched my hands into fists on the heavy rifle. “Get on the boat and go.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” I said. “Raith and Marcone have the other two sites covered, but we are the only ones left to get to Demonreach. If we blow it there, and the ritual goes off, we’re all screwed. If I go with you, the Hunt follows me and then goes after whoever is close. We’ll never pull off an assault with them on our heels.”
My brother ground his teeth and shook his head.
“Let’s go, Harry,” Karrin said. “If they follow us out over the lake, we’ll take them on.”
“You can’t take them on,” I said quietly. “The Hunt isn’t a monster you can shoot. It’s not some creature you can wrestle with, or some kind of mercenary you can buy off. It’s a force of nature, red in tooth and claw. It kills. That’s what it does.”
“But—” Karrin began.
“He’s right,” Thomas said, his voice rough. “Dammit. He’s right.”
“It’s chess,” I said. “We’ve been checked, with that ritual on the island. We have no choice but to try to stop it with everything we’ve got. If that means sacrificing a piece, that’s how it has to be.”
I put a hand on my brother’s shoulder. “Go. Get it done.”
He put his cold, strong hand over mine for a second. Then he turned and ran for the boat.
Karrin stared up at me for a second, the rain plastering her hair down. Her face was twisted with agony. “Harry, please.” She swallowed. “I can’t leave you alone. Not twice.”
“There are eight million people in this city. And if we don’t shut the ritual down, those people will die.”
Karrin’s expression changed—from pain to shock, from shock to horror, and from horror to realization. She made a choking sound and ducked her head, her face turned away from me. Then she turned toward the boat.
I watched her for a second longer. Then I sprinted for the Munstermobile as the haunting cry of the Wild Hunt’s horn grew nearer. I jammed my key into the door lock and . . .
And it wouldn’t fit.
I tried it again. No joy. Half-panicked, I ran to each of the others, but every single one of the locks was out of commission. I was going to bust out a window, but I checked the car’s ignition through it first. It had been packed with what looked like chewing gum. The Munstermobile had . . .
Had been sabotaged. With gum and superglue. It was a trick I’d had Toot and company play on others more than once. And now what I had done unto others had been done unto me at the damnedest moment imaginable.
“Aggggh!” I screamed. “I hate ironic reversal!”
The Za Lord’s Guard had been escorting us along the way, but I hadn’t said anything about staying on the job once we reached our destination. Given the distance I’d had them covering today, they’d probably dropped down exhausted the second I’d set the parking brake.
The thunder rolled closer, my unthinking panic rose, and my wounded leg felt like it might burst into flames.
My leg.
My eyes widened with horror of my own. The Redcap had killed me at that ambush, and I was only now realizing it. The trickle of blood flowing steadily from that tiny wound would leave a powerful olfactory and psychic trail behind me. Tracking me would be easier than whistling.
I could run, but I couldn’t hide.
Thunder roared, and I saw a cluster of dim forms descend from the cloud cover overhead and into the city light of Chicago. I could run, but the Hunt was moving at highway speeds. I wouldn’t even be able to significantly delay the inevitable. Shadowy hounds rushed down at me from the north, along the shoreline, and behind them came a blurry cluster of dark figures on horseback, carrying bows and spears and long blades of every description.
I couldn’t beat the Hunt. Not even with Mab’s ’roids in my system.
But maybe . . .
Then there was another roar—this time not of thunder, but of a hundred and forty horses, American-made.
Karrin Murphy’s motorcycle slid to a stop close enough to me to throw gravel over my shoes, and I turned to find her revving the engine.
“Karrin! What the hell are you doing?”
“Get on the bike, bitch!” she called over the next horn blast. “Let’s make them work for it!”
She smiled, a fierce, bright smile, and I found my own face following her example.
“F*ck, yeah,” I said, and threw myself onto the back of the Harley as darkness, death, and fire closed in around my city.